


Perhaps

by Shadowdianne



Series: Lost moments [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 14:36:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6570109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowdianne/pseuds/Shadowdianne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And is not a proposition, not exactly, but the same kind of game she had once knew by heart in the ways she had presented warrants and had licked chocolate from her finger while thinking on a particular older woman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perhaps

Emma never exactly realized what had changed, just that it had. It was quite ironic the moment she saw it because when she at first had come to Storybrooke the city, albeit little, hadn’t felt as stifling as it feels now.

She had become accustomed to the stale air and weighing words that seemed to be the normal between her and Hook, had let herself been chained up by her own sentences and promises. Ones she wasn’t exactly as sure about as she was before.

And while all of that could be considered issues she wasn’t sure if they really were that, issues, or just an unquenched need from a time where she had been a child.

Need of being loved, need of being supported, need of being heard.

Albeit, how much of that needs she truly felt satiated when she was with Hook?

And a relationship is not a list of things that fit and don’t, is not a series of things that need to be fulfilled. But, at the same time, she feels lightheaded with rage and tiredness whenever she hears him talk about how he need to be out, how he doesn’t deserve anything, how she deserves everything, how Henry doesn’t help, how he is useless, how he is not… Words and acts and seething murmurs that make her burn.

Burn and want.

So perhaps that’s the reason why she isn’t inside the apartment listening to Ruby’s story of why she is there with them. Perhaps is tiredness of being next to Killian and just be silent, words and lost weighing her down. Perhaps has been the realization of that empty space in that otherwise full couch in where Regina is seated and has been ever since they have crossed the door.

And she is not waiting for her. Emma says to herself. She cannot be waiting for her to sit at her side. What had happened a few nights ago returning to her mind. She can’t.

As much as she wants for it to be that.

So she has just smiled politely at the werewolf and exited, not listening to Killian’s protests and Snow’s words, not even to what had seemed to be Henry sighing as deeply as possible.

Not even to Regina calling out her name.

So she is just there, outside, walking through a ghost-like Storybrooke while trying not to think on anything, the need of being out, of being free, growing inside her chest.

Because everything has changed, everything is different. And is ironic and stupid and silly and she can still remember the spot where she had seen her car unable to be moved and Regina, the Regina that was just the mayor, calling her. Innuendos and banter and just playful words being throw between them.

And she can remember things she isn’t supposed to, like the feeling of Regina’s digit on her chest, the need of moving forward and perhaps capture that finger with her hands, bring it to her mouth. Perhaps a kiss she has been thinking about long before Camelot. Perhaps.

But she is not the same woman she once crossed Storybrooke’s town line and she wonders where that woman has gone.

The woman who would have laughed at Hook. The woman whose eyes weren’t as dull as they are now, the reflection of herself almost a tremulous ghost every time she looks at herself on the mirror. Pale and white and blurred.

She is not the woman who fought for her place as a sheriff, nor the woman who decided to pick a chainsaw and just put it to use because she wanted to be at the same level of a certain mayor. She is not that woman.

And she wants desperately to be her again. The one who faced a fire and took down Gold’s promises, the one who didn’t let anyone dictate what she should be doing. She wants to be that woman once again.

She wants so much perhaps, perhaps her desires should be as little as possible, perhaps that’s the fate of the ones called a savior by the ones around them.

Except she doesn’t feel that kind of savior, she just feels broken. Used.

Sad.

She doesn’t know where she changed, she just can remember the moment she looked at the sky and instead of opportunities she felt caged, the horizon looming closer, as if trying to catch her inside a net she hadn’t realized she had stepped in.

And now the sky is red and she is just afraid.

“I thought you said you didn’t have any issues”

The words are far from mocking but an overture of something she knows is anger, the silent promise that if she finally explodes she would be helped afterwards and she just sighs and smiles while turning, her eyes on a tilt-headed Regina who has her hands on her pockets and is pointedly looking at Emma’s. Glowing and crackling.

“I may have a few” She finally admits as she tilts her own head. Storybrooke is silent, the road they both are in deserted and albeit she hasn’t exactly walked much the distance between her and the apartment is big enough. “How have you found me?”

Regina rolls her eyes and mutters “magic” as if it was the most obvious answer. Which it is.

“Your mother wanted to know where you were” The brunette finally says and is soft and warm and gone is that tone of before, brown eyes looking at her, dark edges glowing on them, specks of the woman she had also been once peeking between browns and blacks.

And is strange how much she feels herself missing that look.

“And Hook?” She asks and when she sees Regina’s eyes morph from subtle embers to spiteful fire she just wants to cross her arms over herself and look at any other side.

“I’m not here because of him”

And the words can be interpreted in so many ways that Emma feels her head start to spin. The answer of a question she hasn’t quite asked but still thinks from time to time coming back to her. Because if there is someone that doesn’t need to be here is the woman in front of her. The woman who would have positively roasted a particular pirate’s ass just two years before.

And is still ironic.

“I’m sorry” She finds herself whispering and there it is, the words she has tried to say but have been unable. “I’m sorry you are here, because of me”

And she doesn’t exactly know what she had been expecting but a smile is not it. And the silence seems to stretch around them and Emma wonders for a second if Regina is perhaps waiting for her to continue so she does.

“I…”

“What would have been the outcome if we haven’t decided to come here?” Regina shots back, and is anger and her voice is deep and dark and there it is, strength, strength Emma wants so much to soak into. “You would have end up trapped either way, without any help from us”

Her voice is trembling and Emma licks her lips, not sure of what those words mean, if they really mean something else.

“You would be here, in a tomb, unable to exit” Regina is now looking at her but not seeing her, words strong but eyes lost and the fire that is always feeding her seem to be gone, suddenly a meek flame Emma closes her eyes at. Because there is the other change she hasn’t seen it coming and yet there is. “You would be…”

“Alone” Emma finishes and she is whispering now, coming closer to Regina in the middle of a street that is just a mirror of the one that would be full of people. But is not.

“Alone” Regina repeats and there is defeat and Emma briefly thinks where in Camelot she had used her magic to fight against Merlin and everything she had seen had been those brown eyes looking at her, proud and smirking and full of something that hadn’t been fire but at had burn as much.

“I wanted more” The blonde finds herself whispering and as she blinks she wonders if she just should shut up. Which she doesn’t. “In the couch, I wanted more”

Regina just smiles at that, anger gone and Emma thinks on what would be to be that other person, the person she once was, the person who could have probably done much more than the one she is now.

Or not.

“What would you have wanted?”

And is not a proposition, not exactly, but the same kind of game she had once knew by heart in the ways she had presented warrants and had licked chocolate from her finger while thinking on a particular older woman.

Is because of that she moves forward and caress Regina’s cheek slowly, just very very slowly, digits mapping that soft skin she can feel against her tips. Is because of that she lets her hand move along the woman’s jaw as the former queen closes her eyes. Her index going behind the brunette’s ear, slowly pressing, releasing as Regina let her lips part.

She doesn’t stop until she feels a shift on the way Regina breathes, eyes cloudy when they finally open.

She is not the same woman anymore but she wonders as much, wants as much.

And perhaps that’s why she takes a step back and smiles. Soft, open.

“And you?”


End file.
